


If You Can't Dance to This, It Doesn't Matter

by waketosleep



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Community: cliche_bingo, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-12-16
Updated: 2010-05-06
Packaged: 2017-10-04 11:42:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waketosleep/pseuds/waketosleep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim gets to know the new kid at school. He's a little strange, but so is Jim, so it works out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was like a perfect storm of me staring forlornly at my Cliché Bingo card, listening to too much music on repeat, and having a strongly-worded debate with [](http://leupagus.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**leupagus**](http://leupagus.dreamwidth.org/) about how I was totally NOT going to write [fluffy school AU fic where Kirk and Spock were boringly in love and sickeningly adorable forever](http://leupagus.dreamwidth.org/10929.html). 2400 words later, well.

Jim walks out of his Algebra classroom to see the tableau laid out in front of him: Johnstone and his football goons standing in a loose circle, that quiet new kid with the bowl cut shoved up against a locker. There's harsh laughter and Johnstone tosses Bowl Cut's heavy bookbag at Marquez, the linebacker; it immediately gets upended and books and pens are dumped all over the floor.

Bones was right behind him and is probably saying something bitchy about the fact that Jim's blocking the doorway, but Jim can't hear because all of his attention is trained on the scene in the hallway. He moves without conscious thought and feels a hand on the back of his jacket, trying to yank him out of this business that has nothing to do with him, but it's so easy to shrug off.

"Hey asshole," he says loudly. His voice echoes in a sudden, striking silence. There's a bit of a crowd drawing around now, in the bustle of classroom changes.

Johnstone turns around, a fistful of Bowl Cut's shirt still wound up in his hand.

"The fuck do you want, Kirk?" he growls.

"I want you to find a brain donor. Barring that, maybe you could let that kid go and clean up all this shit from the floor."

"How many times do you have to be told to mind your own business?" Johnstone snaps, but he releases Bowl Cut and turns all his attention to Jim.

"How many times do _you_ have to be told to mind your manners?" Jim shoots back. "Didn't your mama teach you to play nice with others?"

"No, but _your_ mama taught me a few things."

Jim smirks down at the floor as the crowd of rubberneckers laughs nervously. He tenses and relaxes all of his muscle groups, preparing for a fight, and when he looks up again, calm, he makes eye contact with Bowl Cut. _Why are you still standing there?_ he thinks at the kid silently, his face expressionless. _Can't you see I'm being the distraction and it's time for you to book it?_

"What I'd like to know," Jim says, locking eyes with Johnstone, "is where you learned to suck dick so well, Cupcake. It wasn't from my _mama_."

He feels fierce satisfaction when Johnstone rushes him, and easily deflects two wild punches aimed at his head before striking hard with his elbow, into the solar plexus. Johnstone staggers back and Marquez and Giotto step forward, their eyes on their leader. Jim shifts his weight to the balls of his feet, happy to take on all three of them, but Mr. Pike comes sailing into their midst to break up the fight before it can get really good.

"Kirk! Johnstone! Office, _now_. Everybody else, get your butts to class! Move it along!"

Jim sees two things in passing as Pike marches him down the hall to the principal's office: Bones scowling from the doorway of the Algebra classroom, and Bowl Cut still standing in the same place, staring at him.

***

"It's just a few days of detention," Jim mutters, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans.

"This time," Bones snaps. "You're going to end up expelled and in juvie one of these days."

"I couldn't let those neanderthals beat the poor kid up!" Jim exclaims. "He's barely even had time to adjust to being here, forget the bullying."

"You've never even spoken to him!" Bones says, flailing his arms a little as they walk across the lawn. "I don't think he needs you to be a white knight."

Jim looks away, irritated, and spies Bowl Cut sitting alone under a tree. "See ya, Bones," he says, cutting him off mid-tirade, and impulsively makes a beeline for the tree.

Bowl Cut is completely absorbed in a textbook; a brown lunch bag sits crumpled and forgotten at his side. His neck is a pale, elegant curve as he hunches over the book. Jim studies the line of it for a moment before dropping into a sitting position.

"Hi," he says.

Bowl Cut's spine stiffens and he looks up cautiously. Jim can see the instant he's recognized; instead of returning the greeting, the kid blinks at him.

Good thing Jim is unflappable. "What are you reading?" he asks.

"Physics. What are you doing?" Bowl Cut answers. His voice is calm and clear, measured and smooth.

"I'm sitting under this tree, enjoying my lunch hour," Jim answers with a grin.

"That is not what I meant. Why are you speaking to me?"

Bowl Cut, Jim realizes, is his age, although he initially looks young, maybe because he's skinny and quiet. He's not in any of Jim's classes, though, or at least not the ones Jim occasionally shows up to.

"Sorry," Jim says, "my bad. We're doing this out of order." He puts a hand out toward Bowl Cut. "My name's Jim."

"I am Spock." Spock eyes his hand but doesn't move to shake it.

Jim pulls his hand back and drops it into his lap. "Johnstone and them are kind of morons," he says.

Spock stiffens even more. "I had that situation under control. Your intervention was unnecessary."

"Are you sure? Those guys are each, like, twice your size."

"I am trained in unarmed combat," Spock says, his voice still toneless. "I could have subdued them. The situation had not yet escalated to a point where such action was warranted."

"Right," Jim says, "so dumping all your stuff on the floor while you were pinned against a locker wasn't escalated enough. Good to know."

Spock's shoulders tense visibly. "Your concern is appreciated," he says quietly. "Were you punished?"

"Detention," Jim says flippantly.

Spock gives him an alarmed look, and Jim grins.

"If a week went by where I didn't land myself in detention at least once, every teacher in this joint would have a simultaneous heart attack. Don't worry about it. I fight with Johnstone all the time. He has issues."

"I see," Spock says, sounding as if he really doesn't see, but doesn't want to ask.

Jim settles back against the tree trunk and peers up at the sky.

"You do not have a lunch to eat?"

Jim shrugs. He usually doesn't.

Spock reaches into his crumpled lunch bag and pulls out an apple, which he hands to Jim without a word.

"Thanks," Jim says, smiling for once without meaning to. Spock leans back against the tree beside him and props the book on his thighs as Jim takes a loud bite.

***

Spock spends his lunch hour under that tree every day. Jim takes to ditching Bones (to much bitching, but they already spend so much time together that rumours are starting to spread) and sauntering out onto the lawn to join him. Sometimes they talk and sometimes they just sit there; Spock usually has some kind of homework or extracurricular reading handy, and Jim likes to people-watch. Spock also seems to like sharing his food with Jim. Jim is toying with the hypothesis that Spock has actually started bringing extra, just for him.

The public nature of their hanging-out has an effect on the school; certain people, such as Johnstone, seem to start leaving Spock alone now that he appears to be under Jim's protection. Other people have probably started avoiding any opportunities at friendship, since Jim has a bit of a reputation. The rumours about Jim and Bones fade away, at least as far as he can tell. Bones makes the occasional disparaging comment about boyfriends and standing lunch dates as Jim ditches him.

It's comfortable, if static, but Jim gets careless and starts letting his guard down a little around Spock, which throws a wrench in things one day.

Spock has a laptop with him, and he's typing busily as Jim drops onto the grass; he barely looks up to nod a 'hello'.

"Whatcha doin'?"

"I am working on an assignment for my programming course." Spock finishes a line, clicks something on the touchpad, and then makes a quiet, frustrated noise. "It will not compile."

Jim's curiosity kicks in and he leans over to peer at the screen. Lines and lines of code, the syntax meticulous and almost beautiful-looking. Then he sees it, and leans farther into Spock's space to point at the screen. Spock's body is warm and very solid where his shoulder presses into it and he smells faintly nice; Jim blinks, distracted.

"Here," he says, jabbing a finger at the screen. "You forgot to call the method for this line."

Spock stares at the screen, scrolls up slightly, and then turns to stare at Jim. Jim realizes abruptly how much body contact they have (Spock is not a fan of touching people) and sits up straight.

"What?" he says.

Spock gives him an inscrutable look. "You know Java?" he asks finally.

Jim shrugs a little, looking away. "And some C, and Python. It's kind of a hobby, I guess."

Spock fixes his code and compiles it again; it works this time. "Thank you," he says, still looking a little bewildered.

"Is something wrong?" Jim asks, feeling the heavy weight of dread. "You look freaked."

Spock shuts the laptop and turns to face him. "You do not act like someone who is competent in multiple programming languages. I have known you for a month and all this time, something so fundamental as your intelligence has been hidden."

Jim does this to himself, really. "I said it's just a hobby."

"You are skilled at math, are you not." Spock gives him a level stare as he says it; it is not a question.

Jim answers anyway. "Yeah, I guess."

"The sciences?" Spock prods.

Jim looks off across the lawn, at a group of girls that just walked outside. "Pretty good knowledge in physics and chem," he says vaguely, pretending it isn't a big deal. It isn't, really. Except that this is Spock, looking at Jim as if he's never seen him before, and so it actually is.

"Fascinating," Spock says, and then he stands up. "I must go." He throws his lunch bag into Jim's lap—there's an apple inside—and picks up his bag and computer to walk off across the lawn.

Jim pulls out the apple and stares at it. He fucked up. Somehow. Again.

***

Jim goes out to the tree the next day anyway, and amazingly, Spock is there, as always.

"Hi," Jim says, awkwardly moving to sit down. "Look, Spock—"

Spock interrupts him, as if he wasn't even listening. "Please rate your current knowledge on the subject of exothermic reactions."

Jim is thrown for only a second; mostly he's relieved. "Um? Pretty solid, I guess. I once made thermite for a sixth grade science project."

Spock blinks. "Was it functional?"

Jim grins, filled with nostalgia. "I almost got expelled."

Spock raises an eyebrow. "I ask because I am entering a state science fair and would appreciate outside input on my planned exhibit."

"You're gonna blow shit up in the name of science?" Jim asks, a little excited despite himself.

Spock's lips twitch, just a little. "Indeed."

"Spock," Jim says, "you had me at 'exothermic'. What's the plan?"

Spock reaches into his bag for his notes.

***

It's like a floodgate's been opened; they spend entire lunches talking about nerdy things like Lorentz manifolds and computer architecture and whether Spock can build a functional bomb calorimeter in the two months before the science fair. Spock lends Jim a book on Haskell, which they argue about even as Jim reads it while sitting under the tree, eating the half a sandwich Spock has given him that day.

One day, Jim shows up at the tree with his Spanish textbook. Spock gives it a curious look.

"Test this afternoon," Jim explains. "Don't know my vocab yet. And hey, be impressed. You know I trust a person when I start _studying_ in front of them."

"You never mentioned that you were enrolled in Spanish," Spock says. They have no classes together; it's easy to forget.

"Requirements," Jim says, settling his back against the tree trunk and cracking open the book to chapter seven. He shows up to Spanish regularly, mostly because Uhura is in that class and he's been on a low-level mission to get into her pants ever since meeting her back in tenth grade. These days, though, he's mostly defaulted to teasing, and she seems to actually have her eye on _Bones_, the tasteless bitch. Jim will just count himself lucky.

"Are you confident that you will pass your test?" Spock asks, sounding doubtful at the fact that Jim's studying about an hour before it's supposed to start.

"Sure," Jim says. "I can speak it fine."

"I hope that it is at least an improvement upon your ability in English."

"Spock!" Jim says, setting down his book in surprise. "That was a _joke_! Be still, my heart!" He clutches at his chest dramatically.

Spock stares off into the distance for a second, his face the picture of calm annoyance. "I merely regret that I do not speak the language, so I cannot be useful to you in your memorization."

"Don't worry about it. I'll pass," Jim says, turning a page.

He looks up again after a moment, and Spock is giving him a thoughtful look.

"What? Something on my face?" he says.

Spock shakes his head. "Demonstrate your Spanish skills for me. I admit to some curiosity."

"You mean you don't believe me. Fine. No hay problema." Jim clears his throat and looks right at Spock, whose hair is shining black in the sun. "Te quiero. Quiero besarte con lengua y despeinarte," he says.

Spock furrows his brows. "I do not have any idea what you said."

"Thought not," Jim says, and goes back to his studying. Spock settles beside him, cracking open an ever-present textbook. Their shoulders are pressed against each other, and Jim smiles to himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barriers of friendship are torn down, Bones is a jerk, there is way more awkwardness than anyone can handle, and allusions are made as to why Spock acts like he does.

Jim regrets not putting on a shirt to answer the door, when he opens it to find Spock standing on the other side.

"Uh," he says intelligently, feeling suddenly naked. He tries to suavely say hello, but it comes out as, "What are you doing here?"

Spock won't even make eye contact; apparently something very interesting is going on above Jim's left shoulder. "You were not at lunch today. I was... concerned."

"Oh," Jim says. "I got suspended."

Shock is obviously what it takes for eye contact. "Suspended?" says Spock. "Why?"

Jim shrugs. "Barnett's got it in for me again. Accused me of cheating on my organic chem test last week because I had all the same answers as the smart kid in the class. I told him that was because they were the right answers, and," he twiddles his fingers in the air, like magic, "inquiry, probation, two-day mandatory vacation." He steps back from the door, trying not to hide behind it. "Come in."

He turns his back on Spock to run upstairs for a shirt, and wonders as he does whether he'll come back to find the guy still standing on the porch.

Two sniff-tests and a semi-clean t-shirt later, Jim thumps downstairs again to find that Spock has actually moved all the way into the front hallway, where he's defaulted to standing around awkwardly.

"Something to drink?" Jim asks, leading the way to the kitchen and feeling pleased when Spock actually follows.

Spock accepts a bottled water and seats himself at the kitchen table. The wind flings dead leaves at the window behind him. Jim can see in the distance that his neighbour is out on the tractor, pulling in hay bales.

"How'd you find your way out here, anyway?" Jim asks, dropping into a chair and breaking the seal on his water.

Spock fidgets with the cap from his. "When you did not appear for lunch, I found Leonard McCoy to ask where you were. He said he did not know but essentially communicated that I should come find you myself, and gave me directions to your home. I borrowed my mother's car when I arrived home from school."

"You have your license?" Jim blurts in surprise.

Spock gives him an odd look. "I am of age to possess one, Jim. I obtained it during the summer, after moving to Iowa and before beginning the school year. I might have taken the exam earlier but learning to drive in Japan is an expensive and time-consuming endeavour, and Tokyo has a more than sufficient public transit system."

That's a lot of new information to process at once; Jim tries to pick out the most important details, and probably fails. "Tokyo?" he says.

Spock inclines his head. "I lived there for four years. Before that, Jordan, and my early childhood was spent in Germany. Have I never before mentioned this?"

Jim shakes his head slowly, fascinated. "What do your parents do, that you've moved around so much?"

"My father is a diplomat. My mother is trained as a teacher but has worked only occasionally during my lifetime. She chiefly remains at home, taking care of the house."

Jim has known Spock for three months, has talked to him five days a week during that time, and still, he realizes, he doesn't know a damn thing about him.

"What's your favourite colour?" he asks impulsively.

Spock blinks. "Pardon?"

Jim feels his cheeks go hot. "Never mind," he mumbles. "Ignore me."

Spock raises an eyebrow. "Blue."

Jim grins down at his water.

Spock looks around in the silence that follows. "Where are your parents?"

"Mom's out of town on business," Jim says.

"Your father?"

"Don't have one," he mutters into the mouth of his water bottle. "And no cheap substitutes anymore either, thank God."

Jim can see the furrow in Spock's eyebrows, because of course he heard all of that, but he doesn't say anything so they both let it slide.

Jim's nearly peeled the entire label off of his bottle when Spock stands up. "I must go," he says. "I have several assignments to complete."

"Oh. Sure," Jim says, hopping to his feet too and then standing awkwardly, scratching at his forearm. "How's the science fair thing going?"

"It is going well," Spock says, and then he hesitates. "Will you be home tomorrow?"

"Nothing better to do," Jim says with a shrug.

"I would appreciate your help with another aspect of the experiment, if you would not object to my returning tomorrow after school." Spock is looking off over Jim's shoulder again.

"Sounds good. If we're blowing anything up, we can go out in the yard," Jim says. His heart flutters a little at the thought.

He's rewarded with a lightning-quick smile, gone as fast as it arrived. "Very well. I will see you tomorrow, then," Spock says.

Jim follows him to the door and waves as he gets into his car.

"I am a giant loser," he says to himself, leaning against the doorframe as Spock leaves in a cloud of dust.

***

When Jim goes back to school on Thursday, he walks swiftly up behind Bones in the hallway and slaps him in the back of the head.

"Ow! What the _fuck_, you undersocialized monkey!" Bones cradles the back of his head with one hand, glaring up at Jim.

Jim glares right back. "You _knew_ I got suspended on Monday," he says. "Why didn't you just tell Spock that? He was worried! He came to _see me at my house_!"

Bones straightens up and rolls his eyes. "No shit, he did. That's why I told him how to get there."

Jim sputters incoherently.

"So?" Bones prods. "How did that go? Not that I really want to know anything beyond the barest facts, mind you."

"What?" Jim says. "What the fuck? What are you talking about? How did _what_ go?" He has a feeling he knows what Bones is talking about but he's going to feign ignorance as long as possible, for his own sake.

"Jim! Did you finally get into his pants or didn't you?" Bones rubs at his face angrily. "Please tell me you got it out of your system. I'm getting sick of all the mooning and tension. It never takes you this long."

"I..." Jim's frantic grab at ignorance has completely missed, and he's left standing shamefacedly in the middle of the Science hallway. His shoulders sag with the weight of defeat. "No," he says, "I didn't 'get into his pants'. No seduction of any kind occurred." He looks up at the ceiling, blinking under the glare of the lights. "We worked on his science fair thing yesterday afternoon."

"Oh my god," says Bones, "I don't believe you. Isn't your mom still out of town?"

"Yes." Jim looks away.

"Do you not want to fuck this guy? Did I misread the situation?"

Jim takes a deep breath. "You didn't misread anything. I want to fuck him."

He looks back at Bones, and they stare at each other in silence for a moment.

"Have I been magically transported into the nineteenth century?" Bones says finally. "What's with all the repression? Goddammit!"

Jim puts his face in his hands. "I don't know. It's weird. I really like him. He's just so innocent and, like, charming. I have no idea what to do when I'm around him."

"You're a mess. That was your Christmas present, you know. I did everything but put a bow on him for you."

What a friend. Jim takes another deep breath. "How's things with Uhura?" he asks.

"Unlike you, I got to second base last night." Bones looks proud of himself.

"Unbelievable," Jim says, and walks away.

***

It snows, and Spock's lunch spot moves indoors, to the library (which does allow food, provided that it's lunchtime and no one is manhandling the books or computers while eating). It's a foregone conclusion that Jim follows him, but this new locale just isn't the same kind of experience; there's no breeze wafting across Jim's face and ruffling Spock's hair, there's no sun warming their skin and making Spock look slightly golden in the light, and there's no rough tree trunk to lean against and find an excuse to sit right next to Spock so they can talk. In the library, they tend to sit across the table from each other.

Also, the chess club apparently considers the library to be their turf, and interlopers are not well-tolerated, so Jim and Spock find themselves roped into joining the club. Spock, honestly, probably doesn't need much coercion; he looks in his element here, focusing his attention on the board when he plays and chatting easily with Pavel and Hikaru and Scotty about chess, and physics, and other nerdy things. He talks to Hikaru a lot about school in Japan.

Jim misses having all of Spock's attention on him. To make up for it, he learns how to play chess and figures out how to beat the other three guys, nine times out of ten. He and Spock are much more evenly matched in ability, but the thrill of having that attention focused on their games and trying to overcome Jim's insane playing style is almost as good as all those sunny, relaxed, one-on-one lunches he doesn't get to have anymore.

He probably shouldn't complain too much, though, because Spock has also started coming over to his house most Sundays, to work on the science fair project. They spend afternoons messing with components out in the barn, flipping through physics and chemistry textbooks, abusing Google when the textbooks can't solve their problems, and arguing heatedly about thermodynamics and why most of Jim's prototype sketches may or may not be impossible to realize in any universe.

Jim's mom is home exactly one of these days, and when Jim nervously introduces her to Spock, she nods and smiles distractedly at them and says that dinner will be a frozen pizza, if that's okay. So Jim and Spock look at each other, and then Spock stays for dinner, picking the pepperoni off of his slices and giving it all to Jim as they eat in front of a MASH rerun on the TV.

"The project is nearly finished," Spock says, during a commercial break.

"Yeah." Jim feels a little nervous at the thought of where this conversation could be going, and stares fixedly at the Mazda ad on the screen as he takes another big bite of his pizza.

"We are, in fact, on target for successful completion before the science fair."

"Good deal." Jim still can't look at Spock. Are they breaking up? They aren't even _together_. Fuck.

"You are available on the weekend of the event, correct?"

Jim almost misses the implication of that question. "What?" He whips his head around to face Spock, kind of embarrassingly fast.

Spock just looks at him placidly. "My mother has said that she will drive us to Des Moines."

"Us?" Jim's brain is still catching up.

Spock turns to face the TV. "Of course I wish for you to attend. You have made an enormous contribution to this project and I doubt I could have completed it without your help. I cannot fathom your not receiving all due credit for your work."

"Oh," says Jim. "Okay. I'll go. I look forward to it."

Spock glances back at him and the corner of his mouth curls up, just a little. "As do I." He reaches over and drops another piece of pepperoni onto Jim's pizza.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Spock present their research on the MacGuffin Theorem, volcanoes continue their reign of terror over mankind, and Bones is secretly jealous.

It's eight-thirty on a Saturday morning in December, and instead of being asleep in his bed like a sane person, Jim sits anxiously in the front room, staring out the window. He's been there for ten minutes, his knee jiggling so that the heel of his shoe drums a light staccato on the wood floor. His mom is still asleep.

Then that light-coloured sedan appears at the end of the driveway, winding its way over the bumps and the new snow to the house. Jim gets to his feet with forced calm and slowly, carefully reaches down to the chair to grab his jacket.

He steps out onto the porch and shuts the front door behind him as a tiny, dark-haired woman climbs out from the driver's side of the car. Spock gets out of the passenger side, a few seconds behind her. She waves energetically as he thumps his way down the front steps and toward the car and walks the last few steps to meet him. Spock hangs back a little, his hands behind his back.

"You must be Jim," she says brightly, grinning at him. The contrast with Spock is mind-blowing. "I've heard so much about you."

"All good, I hope," Jim says weakly, shaking her offered hand. He really does hope. God, does he hope.

She winks. "Of course. I'm so glad to see Spock's got friends. He's quiet."

Jim grins at Spock over her shoulder. "Really?"

Spock looks annoyed.

"Well," says Jim, "It's really nice to meet you, Mrs..." and then he trails off stupidly. Mrs. Spock's Mom?

"Grayson," she says, her eyes full of laughter. "Well, gentlemen. Let's hit the road."

As Jim walks around to the passenger side, Spock gets close enough to talk to him in an undertone.

"My mother is—"

"Awesome?" Jim suggests, and winks. Spock's cheeks flush a little and he looks away. Jim wants to kiss him so badly that he turns on his heel and dives into the backseat, throwing his bag at the opposite side. Spock settles back into the front, next to his mom, and half-turns in his seat so he can talk to Jim.

Mrs. Grayson turns the car around to get back to the main road and toward the interstate. It's a three-hour drive but they eat up miles discussing the project, answering Mrs. Grayson's enthusiastic questions about it; she also gently coaxes Jim into telling her the short version of his life story. Surprisingly, Jim finds that he doesn't mind answering those kinds of questions today; something about her easy attitude, maybe, and the way he can see Spock paying quiet attention from the front seat.

When they run out of conversation topics, Mrs. Grayson turns up the radio and sings along, light and clear. Jim grins when the Beatles come on, and winks at Spock, who blinks back.

"What would you think if I sang you a tune? Would you stand up and walk out on me? Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song, and I'll try not to sing out of key!"

"You are already singing out of key," Spock says, deadpan.

Jim collapses with laughter. Mrs. Grayson's eyes crinkle with amusement in the mirror.

They drive on.

***

The science fair is being held in an arena. It's barely even started, being early in the day, but the number of people and the noise level inside makes Jim stop dead in the entrance. "Holy...."

Spock pauses, looks around, and then heads off to the left. "The registration table is this way," he says as he passes.

Jim shifts his grip on the box of project bits he's carrying, and jumps a little when Mrs. Grayson touches his shoulder.

She smiles at him. "Are you okay?"

Jim blinks. "Yeah! Yeah. It's just bigger than I expected."

She glances up at the arena. "It's one of the larger fairs I've seen, even for state level."

Jim thinks for a minute that Spock only just moved to the U.S., but then remembers that Mrs. Grayson is a teacher. Obviously, she's a science teacher. He shifts the box again and leads the way to the registration table, where Spock is already giving their information.

Spock gives Jim a distracted half-smile as Jim sets down the box. It takes another minute to get their ID badges and table number and then Jim has to pick up the box again anyway. Their spot is toward the middle of the arena, off to one side of the floor; Mrs. Grayson leaves them with a kiss on Spock's cheek and a pat on Jim's shoulder to go look around and track down some lunch for them while they set up.

The whole display is up in about fifteen minutes, and then they collapse into the folding chairs provided for them, to stare off into the crowd.

"Excited to be here?" Jim asks.

"It is pleasing to find myself here, particularly with a project as well-executed as this one."

Jim grins. "Confident, huh?"

Spock raises an eyebrow at him calmly. "I expect us to be awarded one of the prizes this weekend."

"Prizes?" Jim blinks. "There are prizes?"

"Of course there are prizes."

"Actual prizes? So not, like, ribbons and bragging rights?"

Spock inclines his head a little. "In addition to those things, there will be four monetary prizes awarded. Scholarships." Spock stares at him for a second. "You did not know."

"No? I mean, I thought it was just some fun thing, I guess?"

"What would be the point of putting in that level of effort merely for acknowledgement of achievement? That is obtainable in Riverside, at our school."

As usual, Spock has a good point. "Okay," Jim says, "scholarships. That's cool. Well, I guess we'll see how we do."

Mrs. Grayson appears at the end of their row, then. She has sandwiches. "I saw the judges' schedule," she says as she hands them each a sandwich. Spock's looks like vegetables in bread, but Jim's heart swells when he sees that his is ham. "I assumed you weren't a vegetarian, Jim," she adds, and smiles when he shakes his head. "Anyway, the schedule. Looks like they'll be coming to you tomorrow. So if you want to look around, you should do that today."

"Agreed," Spock says.

She shoos them away from the booth when she sees they're all set up, and they wander off down the aisle. Jim shoves his hands into his jeans pockets. They're silent for two whole rows, winding through the front half of the arena in a semi-efficient snaking path. Spock pauses occasionally to glance over the trifold of an exhibit and Jim keeps his hands in his pockets and resists the urge to poke things.

"So," Jim says as they pass the third mini volcano (he's a little surprised it's only the third, but it is a bit of a cliché at this point).

Spock looks at him, quirking an eyebrow.

Jim leans over and bumps their shoulders together, grinning. "These other guys all suck. First place is in the bag."

Spock snorts but the corners of his mouth lift just a bit.

***

Jim's opinion of their chances doesn't change after seeing the rest of the projects; when they've finished their tour they amble back to their booth and reclaim their chairs. Mrs. Grayson leaves to look around some more herself and they spend the rest of the afternoon smiling at random passersby and answering a lot of questions about the project. It dawns on Jim after about an hour that this is the most intelligent he's let himself act in public since he was about eight. He's kind of enjoying the feeling, too, and the attention it's getting him from other people, even if they are just nerds from upstate. Spock keeps shooting glances at him, even while he's talking to people on the other side of the booth.

Then it's seven o'clock and an announcement over the P.A. says that they're winding down for the evening. Visitors start leaving for dinner and booths are packed up. Jim and Spock confer and then leave most of their project intact, only taking a couple of crucial and volatile pieces with them for the night, just in case. Mrs. Grayson twirls her keys around her finger as they follow the crowd outside; it's starting to get dark out.

"Any preference for dinner?" she asks.

They wind up going to a Thai place that apparently the Graysons have visited before; the food is good but Jim is worn out from being smart and talking to other people all day and he picks at his noodles.

Mrs. Grayson smiles at him. "Our hotel's not far from here," she says. "I'm guessing you two just want to find our rooms and relax for the night?"

"That seems most logical," Spock says between mouthfuls.

It seems like the best idea ever. Jim applies himself to his food again.

***

Their hotel is only about a ten-minute drive from the restaurant; apparently it's even closer to the arena, which is nice. The hotel itself is pretty decent, too, judging from the lobby when they walk in. Jim realizes as they check in that he didn't take the hotel into account when planning for the weekend, though.

"Uh," he says when Mrs. Grayson hands him a keycard.

"You're sharing with Spock, Jim. I'm next door. And don't make that face at me; my husband gets a great deal on hotels and we'd probably have two rooms anyway, at this price."

With that, she leads the way to the elevator. Spock follows and Jim hoists his bag up on his shoulder. Well, then.

They're on the fifth floor; Jim and Spock's room has two double beds and that's when it sinks in that they're going to be _sharing a room_. Jim hovers in the doorway; Spock throws his bag on the far bed and then disappears into the bathroom.

Jim takes a deep breath and goes to the near bed, dropping his bag on the floor near the wall and then dropping himself onto the bedspread. He stares blankly at Spock's bag for a moment and then looks around wildly, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV. This feels safe and he settles back into his eight pillows to channel surf.

Spock comes out of the bathroom and sits on his own bed; Jim stops flipping the channel when he finds a Mythbusters marathon and they watch things blow up in silence for a while.

Then Spock says, "I cannot believe that people actually think radio waves can be received through fillings."

"I really want to learn how to make ballistics gel," Jim counters, and then the mood of the room suddenly relaxes. They watch two more episodes of Mythbusters with running commentary before Jim yawns so widely that his jaw almost pops.

"Sleep would perhaps be wise," Spock says, glancing at the clock radio on the nightstand.

"Yeah," Jim says, and heaves himself upright and off of the bed to go get his bag. He changes into his pajamas in the bathroom (normally he goes to bed in boxers but pants and a t-shirt seemed like a good idea for the weekend) and when he emerges again with minty-fresh breath, Spock is already dressed for bed, too. Jim avoids looking at Spock in pajama pants and a thin shirt and climbs into his bed as Spock takes a turn in the bathroom.

When Spock comes out again and shuts off the lights, the room is black to Jim for a minute. He hears creaking and rustling as Spock gets into bed, and then they're silent for a little while. Jim starts to pick out grey outlines against the darkness. The street lights below are still coming through the curtains somewhat.

"Jim."

"Yeah." Jim's voice is soft because talking at a normal volume seems wrong, in such a dark, quiet room.

"Thank you again for all your work on this project. Your help has been invaluable."

Jim smiles up at the ceiling. "No need to thank me, Spock. I had a lot of fun."

Spock is silent again for a minute, and Jim knows he's thinking, so he waits.

"I suppose when this weekend is over, I may see you at school. Do you plan to continue with the chess club at all?"

"What?" Jim blurts out without thinking. Then he figures out what Spock is saying. "You don't want to hang out anymore? I thought we were..." he trails off.

"The project is completed; I had thought..."

Jim laughs. He can't help it. "Want to go catch a movie next week?" he asks.

"I don't—"

"New James Bond movie is out."

Spock says nothing.

Jim shifts in his bed until he's facing the lump in the other bed. He thinks Spock is looking back at him and wonders if Spock can see his face. "Come on, Spock. Explosions and bad physics."

"That sounds enjoyable," Spock says quietly.

Jim grins hugely and snuggles down into the blankets. "'Night, Spock."

"Goodnight, Jim."

***

Morning comes way too early, and Mrs. Grayson is way too chipper for it, Jim thinks as he stares down at his french toast. Spock sits beside him and covers the conversation duties for him while Jim tries to cold-start his brain. He should have ordered coffee.

They head back to the arena and set up their project again quickly, doing a little test to make sure everything's put together again correctly, and then they settle into their chairs for the day. Mrs. Grayson wanders off to check out more exhibits and somehow comes back just in time for the judges to arrive at their booth. Jim is unaccountably nervous as he explains the project, and then Spock starts the reaction up. Thankfully, nothing fucks up; Mrs. Grayson gives them a grin and a thumbs-up as the judges wander away again.

The afternoon drags, although a lot more visitors have shown up and the traffic by their exhibit seems pretty high. They don't get much downtime to sit around blankly or even talk to each other, but it's worth it when a judge comes back again around 4 PM with a red ribbon and two certificates.

"Congratulations, gentlemen," she says, handing the second place prize to Jim and shaking both of their hands. "It was a tough decision."

Jim smiles at her. "Who won first?"

"A volcanic reaction. Booth 245." She smiles again and walks away.

"A fucking _volcano_?" Jim says as soon as she leaves.

"Perhaps it had miniature palm trees and tiny screaming villagers," Spock says as he takes the ribbon and attaches it to their exhibit.

Jim grumbles and looks down at the certificates in his hands. They have his and Spock's names on them, a declaration of winning second place... he stares.

"Second place is a scholarship worth over a grand each?" he squeaks.

Spock peers over his shoulder at the certificates, and takes his own from Jim. "It is $2500 in total. It appears that we split it evenly. The money, I am told, goes into accounts in our names."

Jim stares sightlessly at his certificate.

***

Bones has texted Jim by the time he gets home, late that evening. Jim smirks and calls him back.

"_How was your weekend, nerd?_" Bones asks.

"Second place," Jim says. "Money."

"_Holy shit._" Bones sounds reluctantly impressed. "_Was Des Moines the usual bastion of culture and fast living?_"

"I guess." Jim grins and sits down on the edge of his bed. "I'm going to a movie with Spock next week."

"_Finally, a first date? You people make me sick._"

"Jealous. How's things with Uhura?"

"_She was out of town at some cheerleading thing all weekend. Still hasn't called me yet._"

"Aww, Bones. I'll come snuggle and keep you warm."

Bones hangs up on him. Jim snorts and flops down on his bed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James Bond isn't the only one who scores.

"How long till your date?" Bones asks as they walk into Algebra class on Tuesday.

"Eight and a half hours," Jim says immediately.

"You can't even do me the favour of pretending you have to look at a clock?" Bones throws himself into a chair, dumping his backpack on the floor. "You're a mess."

Jim refuses to feel shame, although maybe he should. "Talked to Uhura yet?" he asks instead, even though maybe it's mean.

Bones deflates. "No."

"I saw her eating lunch with Scotty from the chess club yesterday."

"I _know_," Bones wails, burying his head under his arms on the desk. "Everybody saw her." His sleeve muffles the petulant whine.

"They have AP Physics together," Jim says in what he hopes is a reassuring voice. "Maybe they were just talking about the homework."

All he gets is a muffled groan.

"And you call me a drama queen," Jim bitches back.

Bones lifts his head; his hair is sticking up in the front and his face is kind of red. "I think she goes for nerds," he says. "I have no chance, in that case."

"Too bad she hasn't seen your Biology marks," says Jim. "Since that's the only class you care about."

"I like Gym, too," Bones protests.

Jim rolls his eyes. "So does Johnstone, and isn't he a catch. I bet he's next on her list."

"You really suck at being reassuring. I need a new best friend."

Jim looks at the clock. "Eight hours and twenty-five minutes," he says.

Bones gives him the finger, but drops his hand quickly when Mr. Pike walks in.

"I have Spanish this afternoon," Jim says as he pulls out his binder. "I could talk to her for you. Tell her how much you like reading about stem cell research. Little love poetry, maybe."

"Don't you dare," says Bones. "I don't need your help. She'll never speak to me again."

"Mr. Kirk, Mr. McCoy? If you'd care to turn your attention to the front of the room?" says Mr. Pike. "Excellent. Today we're going to be exploring the exciting frontiers of linear relations."

***

Jim inhales his dinner (his mom actually cooked food from scratch for a change) and then runs upstairs to make sure his hair is artfully messy and change his shirt three times. When he announces that he's going into town, it's like a secret signal for his mom to start a fight with him about transportation; she doesn't think he should be out on his bike with all the snow that's fallen since the weekend. He caves way more quickly than he normally would, one eye on the clock in the hallway, and borrows her car instead.

Spock is standing just inside the door of the theatre, avoiding the wind.

"Hey," Jim says, unable to keep his grin down, "how's it going?"

"Hello," says Spock. "I am well. You did see me at lunch today, if you recall." He raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah, but I spent most of it in a chess deathmatch against Chekov and Sulu. Anyway, shall we?"

"I watched a trailer for this movie on Youtube this afternoon," says Spock as they line up for tickets. "There were three impossible explosions in the space of 90 seconds."

"Yeah," Jim says excitedly, "I can't wait. I love James Bond. Popcorn?"

Jim has a little thrill in his chest as they get their tickets checked by another junior from their school and head into their theatre. The commercials before the previews are starting as they find their seats, and Jim nervously stares up at the screen and munches popcorn in silence until the opening sequence to the movie starts. Then he shoots a glance at Spock, who's looking at the screen and not him, and he inexplicably relaxes.

It's an extremely entertaining movie, and after a while Spock is even engaged enough to stop whispering in his ear about the terrible physics behind every explosion and car crash. Which is kind of disappointing, because Spock's quiet voice in his ear and the feel of Spock's breath ghosting over his skin gives him the best kind of shivers and he never wants it to stop. He makes up for it by whispering in Spock's ear how awesome every fireball is as it lights up the screen and casts Spock's features in yellow-orange in the dark. The corners of Spock's mouth twitch upward once or twice.

When the credits roll and the lights go up, it's like a spell is broken. Jim abruptly remembers there was a crowd around them, that they weren't alone together in the dark for the last two and a half hours, and everyone shifts and mumbles and gets to their feet slowly. Spock stands without a word and shrugs on his coat.

"So," Jim ventures as they follow the crowd out into the lobby, "suitably awesome use of your evening, yes or no?"

Spock raises an eyebrow at him. "I do not normally rate my evenings on their level of 'awesomeness', but I felt this outing was a sufficiently interesting way to end the day."

Jim wants to slow down suddenly as they approach the doors to outside, because if they leave the theatre the night will be over. But Spock doesn't pay any attention to his hesitation and keeps walking, so he follows. It's snowing gently as they burst through the doors, and he spares a brief thought to be thankful that the wind's died. Spock's car is closest to the door and they walk there in silence, hands jammed in their coat pockets and breath puffing out visibly; the snow crunches softly underfoot.

Spock stops at the driver's side of his car and pulls out his keys. "I will see you at school tomorrow?" he asks, as if he might not. Well, Jim does skip a lot of class, but he tends to be there at lunchtime.

"Yeah. Let's do this again," he says.

"I would be amenable to that. I enjoy spending time with you, even when you are torturing me with impossible movie science."

Jim lets out a chuckle; he loves when Spock lets his sense of humour creep out. They look at one another for a minute, enjoying the least awkward silence of the night so far. Jim thinks that Spock looks gorgeous like this, standing in the dark under the pool of a streetlight, with snow dusting his hair and shoulders, and almost before he realizes it, he's stepping in closer.

Spock lets out a surprised breath through his nose when Jim kisses him; he stands stock-still, his body radiating tension that Jim can feel through the hand he's got on Spock's elbow. He pulls away quickly and Spock is staring at him, his eyes wide. Jim watches in wonder as Spock blinks and licks his lips. He huffs out a nervous breath that fogs the air between them and misses if there's a change in Spock's expression before his hand reaches up to grab the back of Jim's neck and haul him back in.

Their lips collide with a force that makes Jim smirk and swallow a laugh; he surges forward and pushes Spock up against the side of his car as Spock kisses him back, peers at Spock's dark eyelashes through his own because Spock's eyes are closed and his brow is furrowed a little with concentration.

Then Jim remembers they're in a parking lot in rural Iowa and there's a high chance that someone within observing distance knows them, and they finally break apart with a gasp. Jim pulls his hands out from under Spock's jacket and Spock lets his fingers drag through the hair at the back of Jim's neck before his hand falls back to his side.

They stare at each other for a while; the snow is falling harder and it's stopped melting when it lands on the top of Spock's head.

"Let's do that again, too," Jim blurts out.

"See you tomorrow," says Spock, turning to unlock his door. Jim steps back as he opens it and then walks away to his own car with a spring in his step.

It's the best first date he's ever had.

***

When Jim shows up at the library at lunch on Wednesday, Spock is waiting outside the door for him.

"Hey," he manages, before Spock grabs him by the arm and hauls him away down the hall.

"No chess today?" Jim asks, looking back over his shoulder at the library as he tries to keep up.

Spock says nothing until he's dragged Jim into an empty classroom and shut the door behind them. He stands with his back to it and says, "I knew this would be our first opportunity to speak to each other, and I find that chess is far less important."

Jim's pulse starts to thunder. He didn't think he made a mistake the night before. "What are we speaking about?"

Spock crosses his arms and raises his chin. "Why do you associate with me?"

Jim wonders for a second if he's misunderstood the question. "I like you?" he tries.

Spock's gaze pins him in place. "Why did you kiss me last night?"

"I--" Jim starts, and then he straightens, because he sucks at being on the defensive. "Why did you kiss me _back_?" he demands.

Spock falters suddenly, which was not what Jim wanted to see when he said that.

"I...." He looks down at the floor, his arms falling limply to hang at his sides. "I did not pause to consider.... I acted rashly; it was uncharacteristic...."

"Fuck," Jim says under his breath, and then takes a hesitant step closer. "Hey," he says softly, because it hurts him that Spock has started looking at the floor and muttering. "You want to know why I kissed you?"

Spock tenses and doesn't look at him.

"I did it because you look gorgeous with snow in your hair. I didn't even mean to do it but I kind of lost my mind."

Spock looks up sharply, and Jim takes another tiny step closer, like he's approaching a wild animal.

"Maybe that sounds bad," Jim realizes out loud. "What I mean is that you look gorgeous anyway, but the snow made it unbearable. And you're the smartest person I've ever met, and you're funny in a really sneaky way, and you hate movie explosions but can't look away, and you give me the pepperoni off your pizza, and when you whisper in my ear it makes me shiver." He's standing close enough to touch Spock by the time he shuts up, and he holds his breath while Spock looks at him like he's some kind of puzzle to be solved.

Then Spock tilts his head a little to the side and raises his eyebrow minutely. "Interesting," he says. "That is also why I kissed you back."

"You don't eat pepperoni, though," Jim says stupidly, still processing the implications as Spock steps even closer.

"Be quiet, Jim," Spock says against his lips.

"We're both slow on the uptake, aren't we," Jim observes.

"I find that a harsh assessment," Spock says, and kisses Jim before he can respond.

***

Jim goes through all of his afternoon classes (except for the one he skips) with a stupid grin on his face that he can't banish. When they meet up after school, Bones takes one look at him and rolls his eyes.

"I was gonna maybe ask how your date went last night, but I don't think I'll bother."

"I'm in love, Bones."

"I know you are. Now come on and help me with my Algebra homework. I'll tell my mom you're staying for dinner."

Jim can't resist grabbing him around the shoulders and planting a noisy kiss on his cheek. Bones shoves him away, swearing.

"I can't get Uhura back if you're going all gay on me in the school parking lot, you fuckhead!"

"I bet she'd like to watch," Jim says, and bursts out laughing at the look on Bones' face. "Come on!" He grabs Bones by the shoulder and hauls him around to shove him toward his car. "I took the bus today, it's fucking cold out, and you're standing between me and your mom's awesome Southern cooking."

"Let's just trade moms," Bones mutters. "You're trying to, anyway."

"You don't want my mom," Jim says confidently. "I can share yours."

"Goody," Bones drawls. "I get to be Spock's brother-in-law."

Jim's grin busts back out as he hustles Bones to the car.

***

There's a week and a half left of school before Christmas break; there are projects to finish and tests to study for, but Jim and Spock still find time to spend together. Jim's mom goes on a week-long business trip and they take advantage of her absence. Spock, Jim learns to his surprise, is a pretty good kisser, like he has experience. It makes Jim jealous to think about and he doubts he should even ask, but then one afternoon they're on Jim's couch and Jim's watching Nova while Spock has his history book open, and he just blurts it out.

"Have you gone out with anyone before?"

"I had a girlfriend for a time when I lived in Japan," Spock answers. "Her name was Mayumi."

Jim's eyebrows shoot up at the information. "How far did you go with her? If you don't mind my asking."

Spock looks at him. "We were thirteen."

"So... not very far, then?"

Spock puts his textbook down on the coffee table. "No. And you?"

Jim looks back at the TV. "What about me?" he asks, changing the channel away from and then back to Nova.

He can still feel Spock looking at him. "What is your experience?"

"Oh, you know. I have experience. Some. With girls. And stuff."

"I have heard of your reputation since first arriving at our school. Is it accurate?"

"Some of it, yeah." A lot of it. Enough to get the right idea, anyway.

"Interesting," says Spock, and then he leans over, steals the remote, turns off the TV, and kisses Jim.

Jim appreciates the change of subject, and communicates this to Spock by licking his way inside his mouth.

The following Saturday, they go out for lunch and a matinee of a spy movie which commits crimes against computer science, and then they go back to Jim's house and make out on his bed. After a while, they're just lying side by side on top of Jim's duvet, fingers tangled together and basking in a late afternoon pool of sunlight, and Spock asks, "When did you first decide that you wished to be with me romantically?"

Jim opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling, enjoying the slow trace of Spock's thumb over his knuckles. He can probably trace it all the way back to Johnstone shoving Spock up against a locker in front of his Algebra classroom, if he's being honest with himself, but Jim sucks at being honest with himself. "It just kind of happened," he says instead. "Probably because you were feeding me every day. I respond well to people giving me free food."

Spock rolls over and gives him The Eyebrow, which gives Jim a warm feeling. "Now you have to tell me," he demands. "That's the price for being so damn nosy."

"Very well," says Spock. "It was the day you fixed the error in my programming homework."

"I _knew_ you only wanted me for my brain," Jim shouts at the ceiling.

"That is true," admits Spock, looking down at him with that eyebrow still arched. "You were not nearly as attractive before you revealed your intelligence. Before that I was merely entertaining the possibility of friendship, since it appeared that you would not leave me alone anyway."

"You shallow bastard!" Jim pounces, rolling Spock onto his back and pinning him by his shoulders. "Most people objectify me the other way around," he adds. "I'm not sure how I feel about my looks ranking below my intelligence."

"I am sure that you will manage."

Jim ducks his head to steal a kiss, and thinks of something as he does. "You mean," he says as he lifts his head again, "that we could have been doing this months ago?"

Spock blinks. "I suppose we could have."

"That's depressing. We wasted a lot of time."

Spock tenses, which is Jim's only warning before he's flipped over onto his back. "I do not think it was wasted," he says.

Jim grins, his heart thudding. "Maybe not. But we still have a lot of catching up to do."

"Indeed," says Spock. His hands on Jim's shoulders keep Jim from surging up to meet his lips faster, but as Spock starts exploring his mouth, Jim decides he's not actually in that big of a hurry, after all.


End file.
